Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 75723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
“It’s not insane. Not after what happened.”
“But it’s over. People get into accidents, and then they’re back to driving the next day.”
“I’ve wrecked two cars,” I admit. “Both of them in intersections. I T-boned other cars, and neither of them was my fault. People don’t know how to turn left. Sometimes, it just happens. I had wicked whiplash both times, but I have to say that as soon as I received the insurance money and got another vehicle, I was back out there. I never considered not driving again. I do get really edgy when I’m going through intersections, and there is someone waiting to turn, though. I’m always shadowing the brake. That urge…it stays with you. And you remember it. The second time it happened, I swear I heard that nasty crunch of metal from the first time before it even happened. And I know that’s not even close to what you went through. I’m just trying to say I understand what you’re saying.”
Darius stands up just a little bit taller. The sun beams down on us from above, and in the bright light, I can see the mark on his bottom lip where he sunk his teeth into it earlier in the car. “I’m going to sit in it for longer and longer each day. Will you put it in the garage when you’re not driving it and leave the top down?”
I’m shocked. My god, I can’t imagine having to be that brave. I didn’t understand how bad it really was before because I hadn’t seen it firsthand. I swallow hard while my heart beats in one long, rapid stride. “Sure.”
His face is still hard, and it shows none of the relief I feel, but some of the tension breaks when Hans comes up and claps him on the back. “I’ll bring barf bags. Lots.”
“Eww,” I mutter. “Here.” I give the one I have back to Hans, but he shakes his head.
“Keep it. You never know when might come in handy.”
“Can you stop that? The book you were reading was in German.”
He grins. “Like I said. A little of here, a little of there, a little of everywhere.”
I guess he’s able to speak more than one language, but still. It is incredibly annoying. It’s also obviously quite entertaining for him. Well, at least one of us finds it amusing.
I want to make sure Darius knows how much I admire and respect him for doing this. For pushing and putting himself through something I can’t even imagine. I was incredibly foolish to think I could help, that I could even understand one little bit of what was going on in his head. I can’t put myself in his place or fathom that kind of anguish. I’ve seen the mess of scars. I also can’t put myself in the position of being in so much pain and going under for the surgeries and all the healing, over and over and over again. It must be incredibly frustrating to have something like that happen and know you’re never going to be the way you once were. That you’re forever changed. It must be extra hard for him, a strong man in the prime of his life, to have to admit he can’t do everything by himself anymore. I know he has to rely on Hans for a lot. But just how much, I don’t know.
I was collateral damage.
He’s used to Hans, but he’s not used to me. And I’ve interfered a few times now. Swapping out our steak, our pork chops, trying to save him from drowning, getting him to sit in the car… Half the time, all that did was prove to me that I really knew nothing. And I’m doing it all wrong.
I have a lot to learn. I have a lot to apologize for.
“Are you okay?” It’s the world’s most inadequate, silliest question, but I don’t know what else to ask. There’s so much I want to say, but I know he doesn’t want another apology.
Darius nods, but it’s an absent kind of nod.
“Fuck no, he’s not,” Hans supplies helpfully, and that finally earns a small, grudging smile from both of us. He claps Darius on his good shoulder again and guides him toward the front door. “Let’s get lunch now. I’m starved.” He delivers this, of course, in a flawless British accent.
Chapter eight
Darius
It’s just another normal day here at work. Here, meaning, my office at the house. And the work part is me chewing out my brother’s ass for making a monumental mistake with one of our international clients when I told him to go easy. Side note…that just sounded wrong. I just finished a phone call where I patiently corrected him on his behavior because instead of listening to me, he went into the deal extremely aggressively and scared them off. I had to spend half of the night, because of the time difference, trying to convince them to reconsider. I think I worked my magic, though, because I understand what it’s like to not want to be in the spotlight, to want to be more lowkey and not have some asshole crawling down my throat all the time.